


we could put some roots down

by jynx



Series: finally home [2]
Category: DCU (Comics), Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Bruce Wayne's A+ Parenting, Dick Grayson is Batman, Found Family, Jason Todd is Batman, M/M, Slade Wilson has feelings, Slice of Life, magic tattoos, mention of past non-con, warnings for mentioning Catalina basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27237385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jynx/pseuds/jynx
Summary: Tim has returned to Gotham with Bruce Wayne, but what impact does their return have on those they left behind and the balance they’ve already found?
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: finally home [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988695
Comments: 7
Kudos: 108
Collections: DCU Big Bang 2020





	1. Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Roots” by Galantis & Valerie Broussard. Massive thanks to everyone who’s put eyes on this: Goblin, Cuzo, Dharma, Salvadore. [Everyone look at the WONDERFUL art that Harishe has made for this fic! Looooook at iiiiiit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27237526) <3 <3 <3

Dick stretched out in bed and scooted back against the warm body next to his as he pulled the covers more fully over them. It was starting to get chilly out. That was excellent news because Slade was a furnace at the best of times but during the muggy summer nights, it had been torture. Slightly chilly meant Dick could happily wrap himself around the other man and attempt to add him to the blanket nest before Slade rolled away or swatted at him in his sleep. Like he currently was, grumbling in his sleep as Dick pressed close. 

He was on the bare edges of drifting off again when he heard the door slam open and felt a small body collide with his. Dick whined and scooted back to attempt to burrow under Slade to escape the attack but was unceremoniously shoved away with muttered swears. He got no love, no love at all. 

“Richard, Pennyworth is making waffles and requires _both_ of you to appear before he will serve them,” Damian said, hands grabbing at Dick’s arm and dragging at him. He knew better than to attempt that with Slade unless he wanted it to turn into a training session. 

Dick let Damian haul him upright and scowled sleepily down at him. Was it too much to ask to sleep in for one morning? Apparently. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair as he resisted the urge to slump to the side and melt into Slade’s warmth. “Go wake Jason,” he yawned. “We'll be down shortly. Promise.” 

“Ten minutes!” Damian said as he scrambled off the bed. “I am famished and require many waffles.” 

Dick blinked after him and gave into the urge to slide sideways into Slade as he waited for the howl of fury Jason would unleash at being woken in such a manner. When it wasn't immediately forthcoming he nuzzled at Slade's shoulder with a sly smile. 

“No,” Slade said, voice rough from sleep. 

“No?” Dick asked, his eyes wide and voice pitched just this side of far too innocent. He inched closer. 

A furious howl rent the air and Dick heard the tell-tale slam of bodies impacting walls out in the hallway. “DAMIAN! GET BACK HERE SO I CAN SHOOT YOU!” 

“No,” Slade repeated. 

Dick nipped the skin nearest his mouth and ducked a half-hearted head swat. He scooted down and rested his head against Slade’s bicep, closing his eyes and dropping an absent kiss against Slade’s arm. He was dislodged as Slade sat up, though the other man did tousle his hair as Dick flopped back onto the mattress, doing his very best to look dejected and forlorn. Slade looked down at him, snorting in amusement before he got to his feet and stretched his arms until his back popped. 

Dick smiled as he rolled onto his side and attempted to whistle. They hadn't bothered with clothes last night and he felt a thrill zing through himself at the sight of Slade’s easy laziness. He wanted. He always wanted but he especially wanted now. 

Slade came around the side of the bed and leaned down, “You should get up. Kid’ll be back any second now.” 

Dick reached up and pulled Slade down to him, teasingly kissing him. Slade hummed into the kiss as he braced himself on the mattress, lips hovering over his, barely brushing against his as he watched him through a slightly lidded blue eye. Teasing bastard. That was unacceptable. Dick squirmed so he could hook his legs around Slade’s knees and pulled, breaking the barely there kiss to laugh as Slade swore as he overbalanced and tipped forward onto the bed. Dick was half-trapped under Slade’s weight, not that he was complaining, and wiggled deliciously under his partner as he tried to entice him. Slade growled and kissed him with teeth and tongue, stealing the breath from his lungs, hands tracing the curve of Dick’s ribs. Dick moaned encouragingly as he buried his fingers in Slade's hair and arched into the touches. This was the good morning kiss he demanded. And hopefully so much more. 

“Can the two of you not be left unsupervised for five minutes?” Damian demanded loudly. “Wilson, hands where I can see them! I had expected the two of you to at least be _decent_ but I see I will have to supervise you.” 

Dick turned his head to see Damian standing in the open door with his arms crossed. Slade took advantage to nibble at Dick’s neck and, if he had been more of an exhibitionist than he already was, he would have let him continue, Damian be damned. Shame he was such a good brother. He ran his hands down Slade’s back and tapped at his hip. 

“Make out after breakfast,” he said. Slade raised his head to glare down at him and Dick tried to smile charmingly. “Shower together?” 

“Better,” Slade said. He rolled over and yanked a pillow over his lap. “Get me some damned pants.” 

Dick kissed his cheek and got to his feet, ignoring Damian's muttered commentary about how disgusting they were and how clothing should be mandatory when sleeping and headed into the closet. He grabbed Slade a pair of lounge pants and leaned out to toss them at the older man before rummaging around for a pair for himself. He found a pair that had been washed so many times that they were now ridiculously soft and comfortable and pulled them on. 

“Well?” Damian demanded as he left the closet. “Can we go eat breakfast now or are you going to continue to hold the entire family hostage because of your, your _libido_?” 

“Ooh, new word?” Dick asked as he reached out and dragged Damian into a hug. “Who'd you hear that one from?” 

“Todd, and unhand me! I demand you wash your hands before you touch me!!” Damian stated angrily as he squirmed free and darted down the hall. 

“You heard the kid,” Slade said as he sat up and tugged on his pants. “Wash your hands.” 

Dick grinned. “You too. We should be fast before he gets the idea to send Jason after us.” 

“Thank god Alfred knows how to make coffee,” Slade sighed as he ducked into the bathroom. Dick followed him, biting back another yawn, as they washed their hands and quickly brushed their teeth. 

Alfred had been extremely distressed at the way the family had fractured after Bruce's death and had begun to institute family meals. For the longest time, it had been only Dick, Damian, and Alfred until Dick had convinced Slade to stay the night one morning and that had been that. After Jason had been coaxed back into the fold, accepting a new room in the Manor and playing part-time Batman when Dick was injured or needed a break, the meals began to feel less like an obligation and more like a family. Jason would often discuss the latest book he was reading, or listening to, with Alfred while Damian engaged Slade or himself about training schedules or his extracurricular activities. There were always empty chairs, constant reminders that their family wasn't whole, but they did their best. 

“You like his food too,” Dick offered, bumping his hip against Slade as he moved past him 

“He certainly knows how to make sure you don't live off cereal,” Slade said with a smirk as he snapped the towel he was using to dry his hands at Dick’s ass. 

Dick spun on the ball of his left foot as he began to walk backward, hands behind his back, as he grinned at Slade. He watched as the other man tossed the towel in the hamper and followed him into the bedroom. “Was that you who used to leave me _actual_ fruit baskets when I was in Bludhaven?” he asked. It had always confounded him because it wasn’t through a delivery company--except that one time he had gotten a massive Edible Arrangement at the precinct--and thus there was no way to track the sender down. He had thought maybe it was Tim dropping them off on Alfred’s orders but both had looked confused when he had brought it up. 

“How else was I supposed to make sure you didn’t die of malnutrition?” Slade asked absently, picking his phone up from the nightstand to scroll through whatever had come in over the course of the night. 

Dick stopped and pulled Slade into a kiss as he stood on tip-toe. “You’re a secret marshmallow, Slade Wilson.” He knew why Slade had sent it; Slade _cared_. 

“I’m no such thing,” Slade scoffed as he walked around Dick and continued down to the dining room. 

Dick grinned at his back. “Soft, gooey, squishy _marshmallow_!” 


	2. Movie Night

Slade heard movement from the door and stayed still, relaxed, as he waited. The tread was different from Alfred’s--more weight, comfortable in their surroundings, not trying to be silent--but whoever it was did not move into the room. They stayed there, at the door, without moving. There was a creaky floorboard half a step into the den that every Bat-child unknowingly hit without fail, even the little Hellion. Dick had been surprised when he pointed it out that first time. 

Dick was currently sprawled on top of him as they relaxed in the recliner. It was not meant for two grown men to sit in comfortably but if he needed to escape it quickly it would tip without much issue. Jason and Damian were sprawled on the couch, Damian using Jason’s stomach as a pillow, both of them fast asleep. The TV was stuck on an “Are You Still Watching?” menu and silent. 

Jason had gotten a bug up his ass earlier that week about some show called _Umbrella Academy_ and had demanded, after a patrol was cut short due to barely any crime being committed, that they watch it immediately. He had apparently been a fan of the comics when he was alive the first time around and wanted to make sure things had been treated right. Slade had to admit it was entertaining to watch, until one by one, they’d all passed out. 

And now they had an intruder. 

Slade opened his eye fully and arched an eyebrow at the figure in the doorway. Timothy Drake, the long lost Robin and constant source of anxiety for Dick. He looked fine, healthy and in one piece, but was openly scowling as he clutched his bo staff in one hand and started to bring it up into a fighting stance. 

“Really?” Slade asked, his voice a low rumble. Dick shifted in his sleep, head shoving under Slade’s chin as he moved. His little bird must've been a cat in a past life. 

“What are _you_ doing here?” Drake demanded in a soft hiss. 

Slade slowly moved his head, bringing his hand up to rub at Dick’s hip when he grumbled in his sleep, and glanced at the TV. He remained silent as he turned back to Drake, trying not to laugh as Dick curled close in an attempt to crawl under his skin. His little bird really didn’t know the meaning of personal space. 

“With Dick, wi-with _Jason_? And Damian?” Drake said in a low growl. “You expect me to believe that?” 

Slade was more focused on trying to ease Dick’s death hold on him than a baby Bat’s insistence that something was wrong. “Go talk to Alfred, I’ll still be here,” he said. 

“Alfred knows you're here?” Drake’s voice was slowly climbing from quiet to outraged snarl. He wasn’t easing out of his fighting stance either, and Slade was hampered slightly by Dick’s weight. 

Slade eased Dick back against his chest and finger-combed his hair out of his face, keeping his eye on him. The last thing they needed right now was a sleep-startled Dick acting before he thought. Jason had tried that once, jumping Dick when he was dead asleep with the intent of sparring, and had ended up with more than he bargained for. One would think the Bats would know better than to attack each other when one was sleeping; they were nasty fighters, to the last. 

“And what are you doing back?” Slade asked, doing his best to keep Dick soothed as he talked. “Got tired of tilting at windmills already?” 

Drake drew himself up to his full height and gave Slade a furious look. It didn’t didn't work nearly as well as his other siblings and especially in a pair of chinos and a polo. “Bruce is downstairs in the Cave,” he said, voice ice cold. Definitely more the Bat’s inheritor than either Dick or Jason in mannerisms; he could have passed perfectly for Wayne. “ _Alive_.” 

“Bullshit,” Jason said with a yawn. He was one of the lighter sleepers in the house, so it wasn't that much of a surprise he was awake. Slade should have guessed but at least now he had some entertainment. 

Drake glanced at Jason, his eyes and face softening just the slightest and losing some of the ice, before turning back to glare even harder at Slade. “You should leave.” 

Slade chuckled, amused at the idea. Leave? Abandon his little bird to the mind games of his family? Abandon Jason, and even Damian? Fat chance. “You got no idea what you're walking into here,” he said. 

Dick stirred, a grumpy mumble as he twitched away from Slade before twisting at the waist to sit up and blink blearily around the room. Slade watched as his eyes went first to the couch to check on his siblings and then to the obvious points of entry, before settling on the door and Drake. 

“Tim?” he asked, sounding confused as he rubbed at his eyes sleepily. “When did you get back?” 

“We've been in Gotham for a week,” Drake said, chin thrust forward. 

Dick was tired, not stupid. Slade pressed his hand to the small of his back, offering support, as Dick worked it out. _We,_ Drake had said. There were very few people who could be with Drake. Dick’s face was carefully, strategically blank as he asked: “Bruce? Or Ra’s?” 

Drake twirled his bo staff absently, looking casually calm. Slade didn’t buy it for a minute; baby Bat was still ready for an actual fight and ready to throw down with any of his siblings if he had to. “Bruce. He's in the Cave.” 

Dick nodded slowly and then relaxed back against Slade. “Wanna hit play, Jay?” he asked, actively dismissing Drake as he turned away from him, the hunch of his shoulders the only hint to how upset he actually was. 

“Ugh, when did we fall asleep?” Jason asked, picking the remote up and toggling through Netflix's episode menu. “Did you see this one? I think you fell asleep first.” 

“Nah, that was Dami,” Dick said as he forced his voice to be light. Slade continued to lend his support to his partner, hand braced on the small of his back, thumb rubbing small, comforting circles against warm skin under his shirt. 

Slade watched as Drake gaped and tried to find something to say. 

“Wanna stay and watch, Tim?” Dick asked without looking back. Always playing the peacekeeper, the martyr. “Looks like we didn't get very far.” 

“That's what happens when we end up sitting still when not on patrol,” Jason sniped back with an aggravated sigh. He gave the TV a considering look, bouncing the remote on his knee as he did so. “It's good, though. I was kind of worried.” 

“They did _Altered Carbon_ too,” Dick offered, lips twitching with suppressed laughter. 

“ _Don't_ ,” Jason warned as he cocked the remote back, ready to throw it. 

“Throw the remote, lose the remote,” Slade warned. He’d already broken his fair share of remotes that had been tossed by a number of Wayne children in this very manner and would be more than happy to break more if it would teach them that _throwing things_ did not end (or start) a fight. He’d had enough of those kinds of fights with his own children decades ago. 

“How are you all so? I,” Drake stuttered, looking around at them all with an expression so lost Slade almost took pity on him. 

“Bruce is downstairs! And! _Deathstroke_!” Drake exploded as he stepped fully into the room, floorboard creaking as he stepped on it. 

“Without fail,” Slade chuckled softly. 

“I wonder if we do it on purpose,” Dick said to him in bemusement, squirming until his head was better situated on Slade’s shoulder. So much more like a cat than a bird, maybe he should change his name for Dick. “We’re home so we feel comfortable making noise?” 

“Makes sense to me,” Slade told him, hand moving from the small of Dick’s back to his hip, sliding the slightest bit under the waistband of his jeans to stroke a small circle along his hip bone. 

“Calm down, Replacement,” Jason said tiredly, waving the remote around. “Sit down. Relax.” 

“Don’t any of you care that Bruce is downstairs?” Drake asked, an interesting edge to his voice. 

“Damian will,” Dick said. 

“I don’t,” Jason said, shoulders hunching. “Bruce is probably going to play more games, bring us in close only to shove us away the moment we do something he doesn’t like. I’m tired of it. He left enough of them when he died. We’re good now. Things are good.” 

Dick was oddly quiet and Slade stretched his neck to look at his partner. “Little bird?” he asked quietly. 

“You’ve been back for a week, you said?” Dick said as he reached for the arm of the chair and hauled himself into a sitting position again. Slade watched him, curious what he had planned. Drake nodded in affirmation. “That means you’ve been watching us, all of us, for a week. Me, Jason, and Damian. You were surprised Slade was here because he’s been helping Alfred redo parts of the Cave that needed maintenance and hasn’t been around.” 

“Also, you’d cut my balls off if I took a contract in Gotham,” Slade said with a grin. 

“I wouldn’t stop there,” Dick said, glancing at him. Slade’s grin widened; he did love it when his pretty bird got bloodthirsty. It was all him, too, none of it was Slade’s influence. “You’ve waited until now to come back because you had a reason. Why?” 

“Bruce--” 

“No, not Bruce. You,” Dick said, eyes fixed on Drake with an intensity that made both Jason and Slade begin to smile. “You’re running this show, Tim, we both know that. You found him and yet you’re exercising caution instead of rushing home to the family. Why?” 

Drake was quiet for a moment before huffing out a sigh. “There were rumors,” he said finally, bo staff twirling absently. “Ra’s heard rumors of how you were running Gotham now and we wanted to see if they were true.” 

“We?” Jason asked with a shark-like grin. “You? Or Bruce? Be honest.” 

“Both of us,” Drake said with a growl, taking another step forward. “Batman kneecapping people? Committing arson? Using fear to--” 

“Bruce has always used fear to keep the criminals in line,” Dick said mildly. “He used threats. I’m following through with my threats.” 

“We trade the Cowl on and off,” Jason said. “When Dickiebird needs a break or wants date night--” 

“ _Date night?_ ” 

“--I take over and we keep the attitude similar. He pops up as Nightwing, I pop up as Red Hood, keeps the villains on their toes,” Jason said. 

“People noticed when Batman wasn’t around,” Slade chipped in. “Luthor offered a contract to find out where he was before Dick stepped into the Cowl. Then he wanted to know where the three of you went. I offered my services but he was less than inclined to hire me for that.” 

“You yanked his chain and he knew it,” Dick said as he tipped his head back to smile at Slade. “Even more so when you listed Gotham as a no-fly zone.” 

“He knew we were a thing,” Slade said, putting his hand on Dick’s back again. “He apologized to me for Bludhaven.” 

Dick snorted, the twisted lines of his mouth nasty and bitter, “Fantastic, he can apologize to _me_ for Bludhaven. And maybe rebuild the city. And turn back time. And not be a gigantic fucking asshole.” 

“Villain?” Slade offered with mild amusement. He didn’t know how to turn back the hands of time or even how to apologize for the past but he could deflect Dick’s anger and annoyance. He had experience there, an age of it. 

Dick rolled his eyes so hard it had to hurt. 

“Wait, are you two _dating_?” Drake demanded, voice rising to a near wordless squeak. 

“They’re practically married,” Jason laughed as he scrunched his nose. “It’s kind of gross at times.” 

“Do I judge you for naming your guns?” Dick asked, looking at Jason as he crossed his arms. “No. Don’t judge me for Slade.” 

“Are you calling Slade your _weapon_?” Jason asked, leaning forward with an eager grin. “I can see the headlines now!” 

“Please don’t,” Dick sighed, freeing a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He probably had a stress headache coming on. Slade would probably need to shove him in a hot shower before it turned into a full blown migraine and he was useless for the next few days from the pain of it all. 

“What _happened_?” Drake asked helplessly. “The two of you are both Batman and acting morally bankrupt--” 

“Crime is down ten percent, which is the lowest it’s been in about five years,” Dick said, sounding testy. He had a habit of getting defensive when it came to being questioned about how he managed Gotham, even by his family. He’d nearly taken Oracle’s head off after a bad night. Gotham was a shithole of a city, everyone knew that, but the Bats--all of them, even Damian who had no true claim to the city yet--defended her and their positions as her guardians and would sooner run out of breath than stop. 

“--and you’re dating a supervillain and Jason is part of the family again and Damian actually looks like a child!” 

Slade could feel Dick tensing, ready to defend his youngest brother, his son in all but name and blood, but Jason got there first. 

“He is a child,” Jason said darkly, laying a protective hand on the boy’s shoulder. The little Hellion continued to sleep on, too exhausted to bother waking if he didn’t have to. He did look like a child, bundled up in a Wonder Woman shirt that was a size too big because Jason had gotten it for him and a pair of pajama pants, a blanket wrapped half around his torso and half shoved into Jason’s lap to act as a pillow. His hair was a shade too long and in need of a haircut and already looking slightly tangled from his impromptu nap as he continued to sleep, mouth open, without a care in the world. “Acts like one too now he knows his place in the family.” 

“Boys,” Wayne said quietly from the doorway. “Now is not the time to argue.” 

Dick turned slightly to see him, as did Jason, but Slade kept a soothing and grounding hand on his bird. Silence reigned until Dick slowly slid off Slade’s lap and stood. “No, it’s not,” he agreed, voice calm. “We can do that tomorrow morning. It’s late. Jay, do you want to take Dami or should I?” 

“I’ve got the Hellion,” Jason said, a fierce scowl on his face as he eased out from under Damian and then gently scooped him up. “I’ll keep him with me tonight, make sure he sleeps and stays out of your room.” Jason left the room, back stiff, cradling his adopted brother carefully. 

Dick nodded, tilting his head at Drake and Wayne. “I’m going to go find Alfred since I doubt either of you did and let him know we’ll need two more rooms.” 

Slade reset the recliner and got to his feet. “I’ll do that and give him a hand,” he said. Anything to escape the tension choking the room. Wayne glanced at him, face tight, but moved when Slade headed towards the door. He paused, once outside the doorway, when he heard Wayne begin to speak only to hear Dick cut him off. Did he really want to lurk, or did he want to make sure things were settled so he could tempt Dick to their room and soothe his ruffled feathers? 

Mind made up, Slade walked off in search of the library. Life was about to become very interesting. 


	3. Alone At Night

Slade opened his eye as the bed dipped and the covers shifted. Dick had been quiet as he moved around the bedroom, getting ready for bed, but Slade was used to his noise. It was a comfortable noise now. He shifted over to give Dick room to move and raised his arm. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Dick said softly as he slid under Slade’s arm. He was warm damp, pliant as he pressed close; he must have taken a shower to ease that headache. He smelled good, sharp and mint-crisp, like that ridiculously expensive body wash he favored and refused to let Slade steal some of. 

“Nah, wasn’t asleep,” Slade murmured, pulling him close. “How you doing, pretty bird?” 

Dick laid his head on Slade’s shoulder and twined their legs together. “I’ll be fine once the shock wears off,” he said. “How’d Alfred take it?” 

“With his usual aplomb.” 

Dick nodded slowly, his hand rubbing at the base of Slade’s ribcage. “I don’t know what to do,” he said softly. 

“You don’t have to have it all figured out,” Slade said, capturing his hand and kissing the tips of his fingers gently. “You’ve got your brothers and me, we can help you figure it out.” 

“He’s going to want the Cowl back,” Dick said, hand curling around Slade’s jaw absently. “If that’s even Bruce, of course he’s going to want it back.” 

“Is that a problem?” Slade asked. He was curious how his little bird would react. He had his own opinions on the Cowl and the Crusade and what it did to his new family--and one of these days he would attempt to reach out to Rose again, see if she would be interested in coming around, maybe patch things up--but Dick never asked him for his opinions. He probably knew them without Slade having to try to verbalize them. 

Dick sighed and swung himself up to straddle Slade’s hips, hands braced on his chest, a thoughtful and absent look on his face. “Bruce has never known how to be anything _but_ Batman,” he said. “Me and Jason? We’ve reinvented ourselves, either out of want or need, and we can do it again. I’m worried about Damian, if Bruce--if it even really is Bruce, fuck, that’s something else to worry about--will keep him or reinstate Tim as Robin. Where would that leave Damian? He’s finally become comfortable and certain of his place in the family. Taking that away would undermine all the good me, you, and Jason have done this past year.” 

Slade gripped Dick’s hips and chuckled. “Always worrying about others and never yourself.” 

Dick straightened, his shoulders cracking as he rolled them, and huffed. “Is that a problem?” 

“No,” Slade said simply. “It’s admirable.” 

Dick slouched slightly, his weight redistributing in a distracting way. “I don’t know if I could go back to being Nightwing full-time, not in Gotham, not after being Batman,” he said, a touch of vulnerable honesty in his voice. “How could I stay here? Where would I go?” 

“We could find our own city,” Slade offered, arching an eyebrow. He had every confidence in Dick and how capable he was in handling this hellish place but knew his partner could self-doubt himself into the ground if given half the chance. He also wouldn’t mind getting Dick _away_ from the dark grit of Gotham and letting him bask somewhere where there was a little more sun. He’d never understand why his bird chose the dirtiest places to nest. 

“Jason would never leave Gotham, he’s too much a part of this place,” Dick said a tad morosely. “I’d have to leave my family.” 

“Maybe you and Jason should talk before breakfast tomorrow,” Slade suggested, his hands sliding down to grip Dick’s thighs. “Strategize.” 

Dick looked thoughtful as he considered that, letting Slade move his thighs as he wanted. Pliant and flexible, so very useful and attractive. “If we did leave Gotham, where would we go?” he asked, head tilted to the side. There was the tiniest, nastiest smile on his face. “You destroyed Bludhaven.” 

“To be completely fair and accurate, I neither pushed the button to drop Chemo nor was I involved in the planning of that attack,” Slade pointed out, lying through his teeth. As if he’d let Dick return to Bludhaven after spending so long in Gotham. Neither city was truly good for him. “I was merely associated with the group at large that did so.” 

Dick’s smile widened. “Mmhm, sure. I believe you,” he teased. 

“Brat.” 

“Completely.” 

“You want to go to sleep or you in my lap for a reason?” 

Dick leaned down, hands sliding over Slade’s chest as he did so. “I think I could be convinced to find a reason to be in your lap, don’t you?” 

Slade pulled him into a kiss, “Be loud, kid. I want them to hear you.” 


	4. Before Breakfast

Dick was in the shower when Damian found him. His little brother and current Robin had somehow snuck in--or Slade had let him in, that traitor--and decided to turn the water from a comfortable temperature to freezing cold. Dick was secure enough with himself to not deny that he shrieked and flailed at the sudden change, slipping and falling onto the tile as he lost his balance. 

“Richard,” the little brat said as he slid the door open all the way and turned the water off. 

“What the fuck, Dami?!” Dick demanded. Slade hadn't exactly gone easy on him last night and it wasn't like Gotham or her villains were kind. His body ached and he had probably bruised his tailbone too in the fall. 

“My father has returned from the dead and you let me sleep through it?” Damian demanded hotly, fists balled at his side before crossing his arms over his chest. The look on his face was anger, sure, but Dick could tell the kid was hiding a world of hurt behind the emotion that still came easiest to him. 

It didn’t mean he had to like the attitude problem but he could understand it. “Mostly it was Tim throwing a tantrum at Slade and we agreed to deal with everything in the morning,” Dick tried to explain from the floor of the shower, pushing his hair out of his eyes. “We didn’t even really confirm Bruce was back, it was just Tim’s word that he’s back.” 

Damian’s eyes narrowed and he turned, grabbing Dick's towel and tossing it to him. “Drake will never accept Wilson's position in the family, nor will he accept Todd’s.” 

Dick caught the towel and dragged himself to his feet. “It's not really Tim’s place to decide,” he said, even as he silently agreed. “It's Bruce's.” 

Damian was quiet for a moment as he crossed his arms and watched Dick dry off. “Father will not understand Wilson's position either,” he pointed out quietly, eyes downcast. 

Damian had bonded well with Slade, the two of them doing more than just training. Slade had sat down with Damian and Alfred and devised a way to homeschool him since traditional schooling had only opened him up to the cruelty of Gotham and her elite. Jason and Dick had been nothing but supportive of it, having their own experiences with the prejudices, and had added their help until Damian had a well-rounded course load now that satisfied the state and Damian’s mind. 

Dick hesitated as he reached for his boxer-briefs before sighing. “Well, we'll just have to explain it, won't we?” he asked lightly as he pulled his underwear on and used the towel to dry his hair. There was going to be so much talking in his near future. Good thing he was the talker of the family. 

“Will you let him take the Cowl back?” Damian asked, voice sharp as his chin rose in challenge. His shoulders were squared, hands balled into fists again, as if he’d fight Dick if he had to to keep Robin as his. It made Dick’s heart hurt something fierce. “Reinstall Drake as Robin and, and--” 

“Hey, now,” Dick said, reaching out to pull his little brother close. He heard the bathroom door open and saw Slade yawn as he peeked in. He had at least pulled on underwear before coming to see what all the noise was rather than give Damian more ammunition against them both about their lack of decent clothing. “I won't let him take Robin from you, even if he wants the cowl back. That's yours, you've earned it. Tim will have to get over that, just like Jason and I did. You've been such a good Robin, Dami, I'm not going to let that change for you.” 

“You have been an adequate Batman as well,” Damian mumbled as he leaned into Dick, the fight bleeding out of him as tentatively wrapped an arm around Dick’s neck. 

Slade snorted and shook his head as he headed back into the bedroom with a muttered, “ _Bats_.” 

“I cannot decide if that is an insult or not,” Damian said as he looked up at Dick, wrinkling his nose as Dick flicked his nose. 

“It is and it isn't,” Dick said with a grin. “Why don't you make sure--” 

“Todd is helping Pennyworth with breakfast. You two are the last to rise.” 

Dick blinked. How hard had Slade worked him over last night? “All right then. Why don't you go tell them we'll be down shortly?” 

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Damian asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously as he leaned back slightly. 

“Yes,” Dick said honestly. “Unless you want to watch us?” 

Damian blanched and practically fled the bathroom. Dick grinned as he pulled on the rest of his clothes and ducked back into the bedroom. Slade was sitting on the edge of the bed, tablet in hand, scratching the back of his neck. He looked bored, so nothing too important must be going on in the rest of the world and his email was probably filled with junk. 

“You should get dressed,” Dick said as he tossed his towel over the top of the bathroom door. 

“You sure you want me down there?” Slade asked as he cleared his throat. “This is your family--” 

“Did you not say that you were in this for the long haul?” Dick asked, plucking the tablet out of Slade's hand and tossing it on the bed. “Maybe I misheard you the three or five times you said it. The first time I'll let slide since you were a little preoccupied--” 

“ _Kid_.” 

“But I'm not letting the others slide,” Dick finished. “I haven't pushed you about Rose because she's cagey enough and you've seemed content to claim Damian as yours--” 

“Pretty bird,” Slade tried again, reaching out to settle his hands on Dick’s hips. He sounded exhausted, the soul-weary exhaustion Dick knew that came from dealing with the whole nasty tangle of emotions tied up in _Family_. 

“And the heavens know I wouldn't have made half as much progress with Jason if you hadn't been around to play tag with him--” 

“Don't sell yourself short--” Slade tried. 

“You're _family_ ,” Dick said, grabbing Slade's chin and glaring down at him. He wasn’t going to let his _partner_ exclude himself from this, not for any reason. Not after all the shit they’d been through to get here. “Bruce and Tim can fall in line or leave. They're good at that. My mind's made up. Is yours?” 

Slade’s one-eyed gaze was intense as he looked at Dick. “I'm not worth breaking with your family,” he said, voice uncommonly gentle as his hands ran up along Dick’s sides under his shirt, settling hot like brands along the bottom of his ribcage. “I won't complain but I'm not.” 

Dick let go of his chin and slid into his lap, knees on either side of Slade's thighs. “Let that be my decision.” 

“I've done--” 

“We all have.” 

“I told you before, I'm not--” 

“Who here is?” Dick asked with a slow smile. “I'm not. Jason isn't. We're working on making sure Damian is.” 

Slade huffed a soft laugh as he buried his face against Dick’s neck. “Force of nature.” 

Dick scratched at the back of Slade's neck, humming quietly, before dropping a kiss against his head. He knew they should head down before the inevitable search party came to haul them down to the reckoning but he was comfortable here with Slade, calming him from the unexpected attack of nerves. He had his own worries, of course he did, it was hard not to. If Slade was panicking, which wasn't something he had expected in the slightest, that probably meant Jason was as well. At least he knew Jason hadn’t bolted in the middle of the night since he was helping Alfred with breakfast, small comfort that that was. Who knew what the rest of the day was going to hold for them. 

Was his family destined to fracture no matter what he did? 

“Hey,” he said, nudging Slade gently. He smiled when the older man looked at him and ran his fingers through his still sleep-tangled hair. “I love you. Can we let that be enough for right now?” 

Slade's mouth quirked into a small smile and Dick felt himself relax. They'd be okay. Until Slade's expression hardened slightly as his grip on Dick’s hips tightened. “Wayne.” 

“Wilson,” Bruce said as Dick twisted to see the other man in the doorway. He looked... confused, on guard, but none of the disgust Dick had seen on Tim’s face was present. “Alfred sent me to remind you breakfast is ready.” 

“We’ll--” 

“Go,” Slade said as he nudged Dick off his lap. “I'll be down once I grab some clothes.” 

Dick eyed him as he stood and kissed Slade’s forehead. “Five minutes,” he said with a small smile. He got it, Slade needed a little bit more time to pull himself together. “And then I tell Damian you used to be a big game hunter.” 

Slade winced. “ _Kid_. That's hitting below the belt.” 

“Utilizing available resources,” Dick said with a shrug as he turned and headed for the door. At Bruce's politely confused look, Dick let his smile turn wicked. “Damian fights dirty and Slade likes to indulge him. He's good too, last time Damian scored three hits on him.” 

“Two!” Slade corrected. “Two lucky shots.” 

Dick smirked and, once he and Bruce were far enough down the hall, elaborated. “It was three hits, and one of those almost managed to break Slade's arm. It was a good fight.” 

“Damian does seem more...settled,” Bruce offered like an olive branch. He moved like Bruce, at least, so if it wasn’t him it was a very good imitation of him. 

“Between the three of us we manage to keep him busy,” Dick said. “He's even been social with some of the other kid heroes, and not been an asshole.” He paused, considering that statement. “Well, not outright, anyway. He gets along decently with the Teen Titans and the rest of the family. He even worked well with Supergirl.” 

Bruce looked stunned as they continued to walk towards the dining room. “How?” he asked, curious. 

Dick shrugged, “Giving him the right outlets. He needs attention and validation, more than Jason or I ever did. Tim never needed the attention the two of us did so you got rusty looking for the signs. Slade helped too, sat him down and explained that just because he's looking for _any_ attention doesn't mean that he's looking for the _right_ attention or something like that. He's a good kid, you know?” 

“I do,” Bruce said quietly. “I didn't know how to reach him.” 

Dick hesitated before forcing a cheery smile. “I'll be more than happy to be your Dami translator,” he said. “The two of you are going to need to learn to work together, after all. Aren't you?” 

Bruce stopped. “Dick…” 

Dick shrugged. “It's all right,” he said. “I'm used to becoming whoever I have to be whenever I need to be. You? You've only ever been the Batman, why change that now?” 

Dick paused, wanting to be clear and firm with the next thing he said. “Thing is...Tim? He can't be Robin anymore. He's grown up, changed, become his own person in a way that means he doesn't _need_ Robin. Damian, on the other hand? He needs Robin, needs Robin in a way that I did, that Jason did. Hell, the way Tim did too. We all have to leave the nest eventually, make room for the new kid, and Tim will learn what we all had to.” 

Bruce was quiet for a moment before he reached out and dragged Dick into a hug. Dick blinked, startled. Bruce had never been one to demonstrate his love, it had always just been there, quiet and steady. Even when he had needed Bruce to say it, or show it, the man had been physically incapable. Dick carefully, unsure if he hugged back if he would break the spell, wrapped his arms around his adopted father. 

“I am so proud of you,” Bruce said quietly, voice no less fierce. “You’ve done well, Dick, and you stayed above Gotham and her madness, despite everything she’s probably thrown at you.” 

Dick blinked as he leaned into Bruce. He had known but it was still nice to hear. “I'm glad you're back,” he murmured into Bruce's shoulder. 

“I may not agree with everything you've done, but it's a relief to see how you've thrived.” 

Dick tilted his head to the side. “What don't you agree with?” he asked, curious. 

Bruce arched an eyebrow, a smile ghosting around the edges of his mouth as he tried to keep the visage of the stern father. “Slade Wilson? Really, Dick?” 

Dick smiled slowly, just a touch wickedly. “He grows on you,” he said innocently as he pulled Bruce into another hug. 


	5. Training

After the almost easy breakfast, Dick grabbed Jason and kidnapped him to the Cave for bonding time. Jason huffed and puffed behind him, muttering curses, but Dick had learned to read the affection in the way his brother didn’t fight his loose hold, the way his words lacked bite, and the way Jason issued challenges alongside his threats. 

It worked for them. 

Jason would always be more prickly, always primed to run at the first sign, but he was also comfortable and unwilling to leave his family. It was a positive sign that Jason hadn’t taken off the moment Tim and Bruce had arrived at the Manor, instead deciding to hunker down and weather the inevitable storm that was sure to follow. He was comfortable; _they_ were comfortable. 

They sparred, half-heartedly, trying to knock each other out of the sparring circle with their most elaborate moves that would never work on the streets of Gotham but they could use on each other just for the sake of being _extra_ (as Stephanie would call them). Dick fell into easy backbends as Jason planted himself to counter Dick’s more flexible moves with fancy footwork and boxing. Eventually, Jason got Dick into a headlock and they devolved into lazily slapping at each other as they jeered before issuing a challenge to see who could get to one of the higher ledges in the Cave first. Dick held back on the acrobatics and Jason didn't try to kick his face in as they scrambled their way up the Cave’s wall, making it there at the same time. 

“Well, shit,” Jason said as he flipped back on the mat they had dragged up there a few months ago. “Who won?” 

“Draw?” Dick asked as he stretched. 

“Meh,” Jason said with a jaw-cracking yawn. “We'll both pester Alfred for cookies and see who wins then.” 

“He'll make both,” Dick said with a breathless laugh. 

“Draw,” Jason agreed. They lapsed into silence for a few moments as they listened to the bats rustle and chitter around then. “This is weird, right? Having him back, it's weird.” 

“Definitely weird,” Dick echoed. 

“He was _nice_ at breakfast,” Jason said. “When's the last time you remember him being nice? Asking about Damian's school and stuff and talking to Slade--” 

“Okay, that was actually kind of funny,” Dick said as he rolled onto his side. “Bruce trying to be nice, Slade looking like he was handling a viper. Tim! Tim looking like his coffee was replaced with lemon juice!” 

Jason snickered before sobering. “Damian didn't look happy, did you notice?” he asked. 

“He thinks Bruce is going to take Robin from him,” Dick said. He traced a rip in the mat, focusing on the torn fibers instead of on Jason's face. “Bruce, he's only ever been the Batman, and I don't think he could ever be anything else, even if he tried. Gotham, y’know?” Jason hummed softly, neither encouraging or discouraging, merely acknowledging. “He belongs to the old bitch and she’ll never let him escape, not alive. You and me, we know how to be something else, how to be our own people. Tim has to learn that too, now, if he hasn't already. We even know how to escape Gotham, though we keep coming back here, for whatever reason.” 

“It’s home,” Jason said after a beat of silence. “You can’t help but want to come home, no matter how shitty a cesspool that home might be. No matter how much it tries to kill you and how full of crazies it is, it’s still home. Sometimes you can’t help but want to come back and make it better.” 

Dick huffed a soft laugh and couldn’t deny that. Gotham was home, despite all the shit she put them though. They were all Robins, with their blind sense of optimism and belief that, deep down, they could make things better with a quick quip and a well-placed fist. Too bad it was rarely that easy. 

Jason cleared his throat and continued, “I figured if Tim ever did find the old man that it would go down like this. All the drama, the fighting, that’s us. We’re a pretty explosive family, when you get right down to it. Still. I didn't think I'd have put in time on the Cowl or that I'd still be around to give a shit what happened to this family, but there you go. I do.” 

“We're both going to need the transition time,” Dick pointed out. They'd been splitting ‘Batman’ almost evenly between them, both of them bearing the burden, both of them so invested in keeping Gotham’s people safe and secure. Their fighting styles had changed, adapted, to fit the Cowl and the mantle, and they had many bad habits they would have to unlearn to return to their preferred masks. 

“We'll be around to make sure the brat and old man give each other a shot,” Jason said, flopping down next to Dick. “You know he's not going to be happy with Bruce's methods. Bruce is harsher than any of us, even Slade. Especially out in the field.” 

“Different kind of harsh,” Dick murmured. 

Jason reached out and slapped at Dick's thigh. “You and Slade, where's that going?” he asked. “I mean, he's pretty damn permanent at this point, isn't he? You two thinking rings, vows, actual marriage?” 

Dick blinked at him and stared as Jason leered. Rings? That just seemed... ridiculous. Permanent in a way that they weren't. Or, well, a level of commitment that implied a whole manner of things that neither of them discussed. Rings? Him and Slade? That was insane. 

“No, no rings,” Dick said faintly. 

“What, you two not a permanent thing?” Jason asked, nudging Dick’s knee with the toe of his boot. “Gotta tell you, Goldie, you two sure as shit look permanent from where I’m sitting.” 

“Why would I assume anything? It's worked out well so far with letting things go wherever they want,” Dick protested as he moved his legs away from Jason's boots. He knew where those had been. 

Jason sat up and crossed his arms over his chest. “You are such a moron. He came to Gotham because you called after not speaking for two years and then decided to stay,” he said. 

“You say that as if he stayed immediately,” Dick said. “He didn't. He stayed for a week or two and then left--” 

“And kept coming back,” Jason pointed out. “He stealth moved into the Manor, idiot. Or are you forgetting he was the one who took me down when I was trying to fuck with you? And then made me listen?” 

Dick sat up as well but scooted around so he was pressed up against Jason's side, linking their arms together. “You were so angry at all of us,” he said sadly in remembrance, nuzzling against Jason absently. 

“I was angry at Bruce,” Jason said with a huff, putting up with the affection with good humor. “Angry for that bullshit letter, angry for dying, angry for not saying those things in person, angry for a lot. You were there. I got to yell at you.” 

“And almost killed Tim,” Dick said with a tiny smile. 

“It's how I show affection,” Jason said with an easy shrug that did nothing to dislodge Dick. “The harder I try to kill you the more I like you.” 

“So you hate Alfred?” Dick gasped as he straightened and shoved at his brother. “ _Jason_!” 

Jason smacked the back of his head. “Shuddap. No one could ever hate Alfred.” He paused. “Or the girls, I guess. They're not that bad.” 

“You've only tried to kill Damian a little,” Dick teased, smiling widening. 

“You called him ‘Little Wing’,” Jason grumbled as Dick cooed softly and tugged him into another bone-crushing hug. “That's mine. He can be Robin, can be the obnoxious princeling, but he doesn't get my nickname.” 

“I've called him other things but I'll remember that one is off-limits,” Dick promised, planting an obnoxiously loud and wet kiss on Jason’s cheek. 

Jason nodded, not even trying to push Dick out of his personal space. “So we go back to Nightwing and Red Hood, Damian stays as Robin, Bruce goes back to Batman, and Tim…?” 

Dick shrugged. “We'll see?” 

Jason nodded. “Fair enough.” They sat there quietly as Dick snuggled closer to Jason and Jason leaned into him. “I still think you and Slade should talk,” Jason said into the silence. “I like him. He keeps you even. At the very least he puts up with your shit better than anyone I've ever seen.” 

“‘My shit’?” Dick echoed in bewilderment. “What's that supposed to mean?” 

“Your moods,” Jason said with a broad wave of his hand. “The clinginess, the need to periodically scale him like a tree because _you're short_ \--” Dick smacked the back of Jason's head with a roll of his eyes, “--the constant need for validation except when the two of you are trying to beat the ever-living shit out of each other for one reason or another.” 

Dick blinked. “We don't--” 

“I get it, foreplay,” Jason said with a grimace, as if the idea of Dick and sex in the same thought was physically painful. “Kind of weird to see the first few times but hey, whatever works.” 

Dick tilted his head to the side. Was it foreplay? Sometimes he was irritated and it felt like Slade was deliberately picking a fight with him, only it would escalate to physically fighting each other--and sometimes destroying whatever room they were in--before devolving into ridiculously hot, athletic sex. Not always. Sometimes they did actual damage to each other, physical or otherwise, and they'd retreat to lick their wounds. Neither of them knew how to play fair, not anymore, and they knew with a shark’s certainty when there was blood in the water. And yet. 

And yet, Slade was still around, almost a year and a half later. That was something to think about. 

“You gonna stay in Gotham?” Jason asked, sounding just a bit too casual. “Now that Bruce is back and we don’t technically _have_ to stay here.” 

Dick blinked. Oh. _Oh_. He could leave again. He didn't have to stay in Gotham, in this ridiculous city who took good people and chewed them up until they were warped funhouse mirror parodies of who they used to be, he could go to any other city he wanted. He knew, for a fact, that he and Bruce worked best with some distance between them, but the rest of the family? Jason would never leave Gotham, not willingly, he belonged to the old bitch just as much as Bruce did. And Damian would be here, and Alfred. Steph and Cass and Babs. His family... 

“Are you?” he asked Jason. 

“I might take a vacation,” Jason said. “Y’know, after we get everyone settled. Find a beach, get those drinks with the tiny umbrellas. Terrify people with my scars. Take some time to get a tan.” 

“Chicks dig scars,” Dick offered with a smile as he pressed his face against Jason's cheek. 

Jason huffed out a laugh and ruffled Dick’s hair. “You?” 

“New York might be nice,” Dick said softly, feeling the longing start to ache in his bones to roam free again. “Still have the old set up. I know Slade has plenty of bolt holes there too. We'd be close enough for visits or if we need to come by to help.” 

Jason nodded. “Lots to think about.” 

Dick hummed in agreement as he squeezed his Little Wing tighter. 


	6. After Breakfast

“Wilson, may I have a word?” Wayne asked as Slade stood, having finished his coffee. Dick had taken off with Jason not too long ago, heading for the Cave, clearly looking to check in with his brother and blow off some steam. Alfred had cleared the dishes before returning to finish his tea, keeping a sedate eye on his family. Drake and Wayne had lingered, as had Damian, though Slade had a feeling the Hellion was staying in his seat out of stubbornness and a desire to protect _him_. 

What a difference eighteen months made. 

“Father, why don’t--” 

“We’ll catch up this afternoon, Damian, I just want a word with Wilson first,” Wayne said, voice gentle. Interesting. 

“Sure,” Slade said. “Let’s get this over with.” 

Drake stood, setting his coffee down, but Wayne shook his head. “Tim, why don’t you get settled in? Unpack your things and give Stephanie a call? I’m sure she would appreciate hearing that you were back in Gotham from you rather than Barbara or the press.” 

Slade passed the boy and couldn’t help but smirk at the annoyed look he threw at their retreating figures. That’s right, this was a conversation for adults, no children allowed. Wayne led him into the study, a room Dick and Jason both avoided and Damian could usually be found lurking outside. Slade had been in it before, curious about the room itself, but hadn’t found it much different than the rest of the Manor. A room was a room, even if the memories of the room haunted some inhabitants more than others. 

“Is this where I welcome you back to the land of the living?” Slade asked, making himself comfortable in one of the wingback chairs near the window. 

Wayne settled in the other one and crossed his legs at the knee. “I wasn’t actually dead,” he said with a wry smile. “More like lost in time. But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” 

Slade chuckled and folded his hands together on his stomach. “You want to talk about Dick,” he said. “About my relationship with him.” 

Wayne nodded. “Last I knew, Dick was,” a pause, “upset over the events of Bludhaven. So much had happened to him in such a short amount of time that it took some time to figure out exactly what had made him so upset.” 

Slade shrugged easily and glanced out the window. “Desmond. Flores. That Sofia girl. The Gotham cops shooting him. Gordon turning him down. Bludhaven. Take your pick, there’s quite a list of things.” 

Wayne arched an eyebrow. “You.” Slade refused to give the man the benefit of a reaction. He and Dick had already worked out their issues regarding Bludhaven. “Catalina Flores is dead, but you knew that.” 

Slade arched an eyebrow at Wayne. “What do you want to know?” 

Wayne’s eyes were intense, piercing, narrowed in concentration as he examined Slade. He could practically see the wheels turning in the other man’s head and, at any other time, it would have been entertaining. Any other time, except when he was aiming to poke at Slade’s weak spots. Dick Grayson was, without a doubt, the biggest weak spot he had, aside from his Rose. If he had any sense, he would have shot the kid and run the moment he realized it. Instead, he had let himself be wound tighter around those strong, nimble fingers. He couldn’t even be mad about it. 

“Did you kill her?” Wayne asked. 

“I accepted a contract on her,” Slade confirmed. He would never just _kill_ someone, not without a contract or a reason. There always had to be something in it for him. 

“And how much was the contract for?” Wayne asked, eyebrow arched. 

“I don’t discuss my client’s business matters with others,” Slade said with a wide smile. Mateo Flores had paid what he could, barely anything to catch a two-bit hitman, let alone Deathstroke, but he had been done covering for his sister and Slade had wanted what revenge he could exact. He had given her a cleaner death than she deserved after what she had done. 

Wayne nodded slowly. “And yet you stayed away from him until recently. Why?” 

“Are you sure you want to go down this road?” Slade asked mildly as he shifted in his seat, making himself more comfortable. 

“I’m trying to understand why my son chose you,” Wayne said. “Dick is an excellent judge of character, except when it comes to those he loves most. He lets the image in his head blind him to any and all faults he doesn’t want to acknowledge and when reality clashes with his internal image, it breaks something inside him. You recruited him--” 

“To train my daughter,” Slade said slowly. 

“Because you like the idea of controlling people,” Wayne corrected. “Whether it was for your daughter or yourself is for you to rationalize. I’m trying to make sure that my sons aren’t just pawns in some elaborate game you’re playing.” 

Slade nodded slowly, trying to reign in the flare of temper he could feel lashing behind his teeth. Rationalize. If Rose was dating someone he deemed questionable--well. He’d probably shoot them and walk away, deal with Rose’s tears later. Part of him appreciated the rational conversation he was having with Wayne while the other half railed against the injustice and demanded they take up arms and battle for the right to decide who would own Dick Grayson. 

Except Dick would tell them both to get fucked and walk away. 

Dick found Slade’s quirks endearing when he didn’t roll his eyes and throw a pillow at him. No one had ever put up with his crap half as much as the kid, except perhaps Billy, and look where that had gotten him.   


“Dick and I had, before Bludhaven, been casually seeing each other for fun. I didn’t mind him training Rose because he was safe; he wasn’t a threat to her, or to my position in her life. That’s not to say we didn’t disagree. We often disagreed. After Bludhaven,” Slade said slowly, “we had words. He made it clear that whatever game we had been playing was over.” Wayne murmured something Slade could have sworn was ‘smart boy’ but he let it go. “I respected his choice and stayed away. Any tip I sent his way was passed along through enough mediators that he wouldn’t be able to trace it to me. Then you died, or vanished, whatever you want to call it. He thought you were dead, they all did. Gotham went to shit and he called me for help.” Gotham, he didn’t need to say, often went to shit. 

“Why?” Wayne asked. “Explain this to me. He has friends, more than I can count, and yet he called you.” 

Slade huffed out a soft laugh. “Because I’m not a nice man,” he said, smiling to himself. “Your kids are unpredictable when they want to be and between the two of them they’ve got the criminals of Gotham more terrified of the Bat than they’ve been since you first showed up. They never know what’s going to happen. Are they going to be given a pat on the head and sent off? Are they going to be beaten an inch from death and left for the cops to find? Or are they going to have their homes burned to the ground while they watch because they ignored the one warning they were given?” 

“What?” Wayne asked sharply, taking a half-step forward before visibly calming himself. 

“Falcones,” Slade said as his smile stretched. “Dick took exception to having his warning ignored. Torched the entire compound.” Wayne covered his mouth with one hand and Slade chuckled. “He asked me to stay and I did. Got your kid to fall in line, more or less. He likes clear, defined roles and boundaries. A regimented schedule is what he’s used to.” 

“He’s a _child_ ,” Wayne snapped. 

Slade nodded, “Yes, a child who likes a schedule. He takes care of his animals first thing in the morning after breakfast, an hour of free-reading, then art and culture with Alfred. Sometimes they go to a museum or a gallery, or Alfred discusses other cultures with him and uses the library to broaden his mind. Training after lunch, different lessons every day to keep him enriched and focused--” 

“You’re homeschooling him?” Wayne asked, a touch of disbelief. 

“When he kept coming home upset? It was decided it was better,” Slade said easily. “Children can be needlessly cruel of those who are different when they’re young. He socializes with Alfred, Dick takes him to different gymnastics classes, and Jason drags him to anything else that catches his fancy. There was a whole Saturday the two of them vanished to a public library to play Dungeons and Dragons, returned hyped up on sugar and talking a mile a minute.” 

“Which one?” Wayne asked, a lost look on his face. 

“Both,” Slade said. 

Wayne cleared his throat. “And Jason? How did you bring him into the fold?” 

“I didn’t,” Slade said. “Dick dragged him home after patrol one night, banged up and bleeding, both of them shouting their fool heads off at each other. There were accusations thrown, as well as punches, and Dick tossed him in one of those cooldown cells you have down there. I brought him coffee and watched him try to pick the lock with a broken hand. He wasn’t impressed. Happened about four or five more times before I mentioned that if they just wanted to play tag to do it in the Cave where they’re less likely to destroy each other in the process.” 

“ _Tag_?” 

“Jason took it as a challenge and got the kid in on it too,” Slade said with a wry smile. He had to admit, Jason Todd had good aim and well a hell of a shot. “Alfred put a stop to it eventually, dragged him up to the kitchen by his ear with a lecture and put him to work.” 

“And that was that?” Wayne asked, disbelief clear. 

“Hardly,” Slade said. “You work at family, Wayne. It’s not something you should neglect because you think it’s always going to be there. You have to work at it.” 

“How’s your relationship with Rose?” Wayne asked shrewdly. 

Slade glanced out the window. It had started to rain. “What relationship?” he asked, fighting to keep the bitterness from his voice. 

Wayne was quiet as he watched Slade watch the rain, both of them silent enough they could hear the clock on the desk _tick-tick-tick_ its way across time. “You’re changing for him,” Wayne said finally. “You care enough about my son that you’re willing to compromise some fundamental part of yourself.” 

Slade sneered. “Hardly.” 

“Dick gets to everyone,” Wayne said ruefully. “I wouldn’t hold it against him.” 

“I don’t,” Slade said as he stood. “We done here?” 

Wayne nodded. “You love him. You care about all of my sons, but you love Dick. I can be satisfied with that.” Slade shook his head and headed for the door. “But I would hardly be a father if I didn’t assure you that if you hurt him that I will make sure to bury you in the deepest hole I can find.  


Slade grinned as he opened the door, “Wayne, you’d have to get in line. I hurt Dick and he’d tear me to pieces first.” 


	7. The Lovers

Dick heard their bedroom door open but he didn’t move from where he had stretched out on the balcony, balancing on the decorative marble railing. Hands eased him off the railing and back against a firm chest as Slade sat on the loveseat they’d wedged onto the balcony for this reason. 

“Why’re you sulking?” Slade asked, chest rumbling against his back. 

“Not sulking, just thinking,” Dick said. Damn Jason. Well, no, he quite liked Jason alive, he just didn’t like thinking about what Jason had put in his head. Him and Slade, in a permanent sense. Now that was insanity. 

“I smell smoke,” Slade growled lightly, nipping the edge of Dick’s ear. 

Dick shuddered and squirmed around so he was straddling Slade’s lap and cupped his face, thumbs rubbing at the short, bristly hair on the vulnerable skin under his chin. He watched his fingers, avoiding Slade’s eye. “What do you want to do now that Bruce is back?” he asked. “Do you want to stay here? Leave?” 

“What’s your plan?” Slade asked, his hands resting on Dick’s hips. 

“That’s not what I asked,” Dick asked, frowning in frustration. He liked the grounding feel of Slade’s hands but still, he needed something more, some sort of lifeline thrown to him by Slade to pull him through the unknown of the near future. 

“It’s part of my answer,” Slade said with a chuckle, his lips tilted into a fond smile. 

Dick felt his shoulders start to tense and hunch upwards and rolled them back as he let his hands trail down to rest on Slade’s chest. “Aren’t you tired of Gotham? You bitch about the weather all the time.” 

“You’re here,” Slade said, thumbs digging into the curve of Dick’s hip bones. “Your brothers have grown on me, like a fungus.” 

“I hear there’re creams for that,” Dick said brightly, still avoiding looking Slade in the eye. 

Slade’s hand gently curled around his chin and tipped his face up. “What’s got you spooked, little bird?” he asked, eyebrows drawn down as he frowned. 

“Something Jason said,” Dick said. “Or, well, asked.” At Slade’s arched eyebrow Dick rolled his eyes and twisted at the waist so he was using the older man as a pillow. “He was trying to figure out what we all were going to do now that Bruce was back.” 

“Right,” Slade drawled, sounding completely convinced. “You were discussing whether or not _I_ was going to stay in Gotham.” 

“Yep,” Dick said, popping the p. “Just, you know, figuring out where everyone might be heading off to.” 

“Has Jason decided to leave Gotham?” Slade asked, clearly humoring him. He took Dick’s left hand and threaded their fingers together, resting it on Dick’s stomach. 

“Sounded like he was considering a vacation somewhere tropical,” Dick said as he watched Slade’s fingers. “He could use the break.” 

“You all could use the break,” Slade said, voice carefully devoid of emotion. “I don’t suppose you’d let me book us a vacation of our own?” 

Dick smiled and closed his eyes as he forced himself to relax into Slade’s warmth. “And where would we go? What would we do?” 

Slade’s fingers were restless for once, toying with his, as he spoke. “I remember you enjoying Tanzania. We could start there, see the elephants, maybe keep the warm theme going and find a beach somewhere.” 

“Same beach as Jason?” 

“Nah, let your brother have his break from the family,” Slade said, pressing a kiss to Dick’s temple. “We could go somewhere with black sand, water as blue as your eyes, privacy.” 

Dick grinned. “That sounds nice. I think we could both use it.” 

Slade’s hum of agreement rumbled in his chest. “Let you think how you want to continue, relearn as Nightwing without an audience if you want, decide if we want to stay in Gotham or pick a new city.” 

Dick blinked his eyes open and tilted his head to look at Slade. “We?” 

“I let you fly away once, pretty, I'm not about to do it again,” Slade said honestly. 

“Oh,” Dick said, voice soft and tiny as he squirmed about in Slade’s lap. “I wasn't sure.” 

“Is that what had you all rattled?” Slade asked, a steadying hand on Dick's hip. 

“Jason said we seemed pretty permanent and asked if we were going to get married,” Dick said, mouth twitching upwards slightly. 

Slade’s eye widened, a look of startlement crossing his face quickly before amusement settled there instead. “Neither of us are really the ring type,” he said. “It would impact your fighting, first of all, and would be an identifier with me.” 

“We could be, though, if we wanted to be,” Dick said. “It’d have to be a want, though. Marriage is, well. It’s marriage, I mean. You don’t get much more permanent than marriage except, well. Death.” 

“Do you want to?” Slade asked, bringing Dick’s hand up to kiss his fingers. “I don’t think I’d be completely opposed to the idea. I remember there being some perks to it, otherwise, no one would ever bother with the whole mess.” 

“ _You'd_ want to?” Dick asked as he sat back on Slade’s lap, his hands falling between them uselessly as his brain tried to catch up. “It’s so permanent and, I mean, neither one of us has the best track record with marriage.” Slade gave him a _look_ , the one that told him he was being a moron, and he felt himself flush. “What?! We don't! Me with Babs and Kory, and--” his voice caught before he could even begin to say her name, “and let's not pretend Adeline is the picture of sanity.” 

Slade grinned. “And we are?” Dick opened his mouth to protest and snapped it shut, settling for punching Slade’s shoulder in protest. “We’ve done all right together, had a good time together. We’ve proven that we can keep this thing going for eighteen months despite some pretty interesting odds.” 

Dick hesitated. He wasn’t wrong. Jason wasn’t either. “So, what? Are you proposing?” 

“Are you?” Slade asked with a smirk. Dick leaned in and kissed him, fingers tightening against the older man’s. It was a mutual thing, he figured. They fell into this together, it was only right they moved forward together. Slade cleared his throat as Dick broke the kiss and said, “Rings are a bad idea but a tattoo would make more sense.” 

Dick tilted his head to the side; Slade had a point. They could fly that under the radar unless someone deliberately went digging for the information, and it wasn't as blatantly advertising like a ring could be. Especially if he was still needed to step in and be Richie Grayson with Gotham and her elite. It would also avoid a lot of uncomfortable questions with the Caped Community on who he was involved with and the instant recriminations they'd throw at him in response. He was supposed to be the good boy, the Golden One, as Jason liked to tease. Even if he really wasn't. 

“That would work,” Dick said slowly. 

Slade’s fingers tapped his left hip, the one he liked to grab. “Right here.” 

Dick choked back his laughter and rolled his eyes, unable to suppress his grin. “Predictably possessive,” he said. 

“Like you aren't thinking about staking your claim on me over my heart,” Slade said with his own smile. 

“Get out of my head,” Dick muttered good-naturedly as he leaned forward to settle against Slade’s side, pulling him in for another kiss. 


	8. The Garage

Dick couldn’t sleep, mind too busy with everything that had happened, was happening, and everything that hadn’t happened yet. It was a lot to take in. If he wanted to be extra, super Bat paranoid, he should demand a blood sample from Bruce and compare it against the samples in the Bat computer, compare voice samplings and who knew what else. Think of other ways they could possibly be tricked into letting a doppelgänger into the heart of the family, but he was tired. 

As much as he enjoyed putting on the cowl and having Damian at his side, another part of him was more than ready to set it aside and just be...whoever he ended up being after all this. Whether he returned to the good old blue stripes of Nightwing for good, or he ended up being someone else. He hadn’t decided yet. He’d do whatever felt right when it felt right, like he always did. 

Somehow he ended up wandering into the garage--somehow he always ended up down here since Slade and Alfred had teamed up to lock him out of the gym after a set hour, which he _deeply resented_ \--thinking maybe to start working on his bike and seeing if he could just a little more power from the engine. Or maybe Jason’s bike needed some adjusting, though his brother would probably murder him if he touched his baby, he just needed to work on something mindless until his mind calmed down. 

He wasn’t expecting to see the lights already on and Tim going over his own bike with unsteady hands. 

“Hey,” Dick called, leaning in the doorway, strangely hesitant. He didn’t like not knowing if he should approach or leave, give Tim a warm welcome or retreat to leave the younger man alone. When had things gotten so bad between them? Had it really just been because of Robin? Had it been before that? Or was everything just so much of a tangle of events that it truly didn’t matter when it had happened so much that it _had_ happened? 

“You kept her in good shape,” Tim said, his quiet voice carrying well in the cavernous garage. “Thank you.” 

Dick and Jason had both, honestly, messed around with Tim’s baby, making little improvements here and there, trying to coax more power and adding more safety features where they could. “Just because you weren’t here didn’t mean we’d forgotten about you,” Dick said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You’re still family, Tim. A place was still set for you every night, even if you weren’t there to eat with us. We kind of understood that you needed to do this, even if we didn’t really _get_ it, but we wanted to give you the space.” 

“It hurt,” Tim said without elaborating. 

“I never meant to,” Dick said, stepping slowly closer. When Tim didn’t move away from the bike, Dick took another slow step forward. “I made a judgement call, maybe a shitty one, but a call nonetheless. Of the two of you, he needed, needs the grounding of Robin more. Yeah, you had some shit happen, yeah, I probably did it at the wrong time and in the wrong way. I meant to talk to you about it first but Damian’s a little shit. I wanted you to stay with us, to transition to your own hero with us, so you could have the net neither me or Jason had, so you’d have family with you while we all figured out how to move forward--” 

“And instead, Damian,” Tim said flatly. 

Dick’s lips twitched in a wry smile, “And, instead, Damian.” 

“I don’t like him.” 

“You might like him now,” Dick said with a deep shrug. “Jason and Slade, we’ve all, worked wonders with him. He acts like a kid, an _actual_ kid, not like he’s a tiny adult. He gets excited over the zoo, and about going to the movies, and demands ice cream. Granted, his demands still have an edge of commands, but we’re working on it. We’re not miracle workers.” 

Tim carefully leaned against his bike, the cherry red finish standing out against his black jeans. “You want him to stay Robin,” Tim said, arms crossed. “Why?” 

Dick worried his lower lip, thinking. “He’s done good work these last eighteen months. I think you should spend some time with him, go out on patrol and see it. He’s gotten better with helping people, actually wanting to help them instead of seeing it as a stepping stone to the Cowl.” Dick took a hand out of his pocket and rubbed the back of his neck. “If you want me to say he deserves it because he’s Bruce’s son, well, that’s not a reason I’ll use. I think he should stay Robin because it’s teaching him to be humble, to listen to other people, to learn that there is so much more out there than himself. If Robin isn’t there to learn and to teach others and yourself, then what is Robin good for?” 

Tim looked down and nodded. “I’ll try to spend some time with him, so long as he’s not armed.” 

Dick blinked; Tim was actually smiling. That was a smile! Dick slid a little closer to Tim, almost within hugging distance. “And us?” he asked. “Are we good? Or, well, will we be good?” 

“You do realize how shitty it was of you, right? Taking Robin away when and how you did?” 

“I think we covered that, but yeah, I do,” Dick said with a huff. “Like, probably up there with Bruce levels of shitty moves.” 

“Worse,” Tim said flatly. 

Dick winced, “Okay, cool, so I’m worse than Bruce. Got it.” 

Tim was quiet for a moment before he bumped Dick’s shoulder with his. “Yeah, I forgive you. I get what you were trying to do.” 

“Burgers and milkshakes for the next three months?” Dick offered hopefully. 

“Six, and you explain what the hell you’re doing with Deathstroke,” Tim said. He ran his hand over his bike one last time and tilted his head toward the door. Dick nodded and the two started walking out towards the gardens. “Didn’t he nuke your city?” 

Dick winced; why did his family always have to go there? Fine, he knew why; it was the same reason he went there with Slade, it was low hanging fruit. “Because I owe you for the extended trauma of Robin,” Dick said with a gusty sigh and a magnanimous bow, “I will tell you the actual truth instead of what I tell the others. Slade was being a petty shit and wanted to hit me where it hurt. Did he drop the bomb? No. Was he in the plane? No. Did he hand over the information? Absolutely. Does he regret it? Sometimes, mostly when I rub his face in it and hold it over him.” 

“But you’ve forgiven him?” Tim asked with a bewildered look. “How?” 

“I never said I’ve forgiven him,” Dick said with a shrug, “just that I’ve...moved past it. It happened.” 

“Does he know you still have to get tested for radiation poisoning every year?” Tim demanded, stopping Dick with a hand to his elbow. 

“I made him go with me a few tests ago,” Dick said with a wry smile. “He was less than thrilled.” He tugged Tim forward towards the gazebo. “Go on, ask your questions, I’ll try to answer them.” 

“Why is he in Gotham?” Tim asked as he took a seat, crossing his arms across his chest. 

“Because I asked him to stay,” Dick said with a shrug, moving restlessly around the tiny hexagon. “I wanted someone outside the family, someone I knew, someone who knew _me_.” 

“Why not one of the Titans or any other ex?” Tim pointed out. “You’ve got plenty of people willing to be there for you. You’ve been there for everyone, plenty of them would jump to do the same for you if you reached out.” 

“Ehh, but that’s the thing,” Dick said, perching on the edge of a bench, knee bouncing idly. “They all talk to me. I know they all have things going on and sometimes don’t have the time for me and _my_ baggage. Slade? He never cared if I started running my mouth at him or just _screamed_ nonsense and started throwing punches because the world didn’t make sense. He ducked or he threw me in a pond and told me to cool off.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Yep, not fun,” Dick said with a grin. “Next?” 

Tim was quiet for a moment as he leaned back against the low backrest of the gazebo and rubbed at his mouth in thought. Dick needed to remember to chuck some chapstick at the kid when they got back to the Manor before he chewed or rubbed a split into his lips again. Tim had that very bad habit and Dick had found a brand that Tim actually liked that worked to heal the accidental tears he gave himself. 

“Are you happy?” Tim asked finally, voice small. “Is everyone here...happy?” 

Dick felt like he’d been gut-punched by Bane. “Ask the easy questions, little brother,” he tried to laugh as he stilled. Were they happy? “I’m happy with my relationship with Slade,” he said, starting to quantify what he could. “I’m happy that Jason is back and not aggressively working against us. He and Damian get along great. Did you know Jason was a secret kid whisperer? I thought I was good with kids, he’s like, magic.” Tim’s lips twitched in amusement but he said nothing, letting Dick ramble. 

“I’m happy that Gotham isn’t the shitshow it was when you left,” Dick offered uselessly. Gotham was still, and always would be, a cesspool full of anger and pain and despair, but it was getting...there. It was getting there. He had to convince himself they were making a difference in beating back the hungry hoards or else he’d go insane. “We’ve done good work lately and it shows. Not just in tights but out of them too. Jason went after Crime Alley, of course, and he’s been pouring as much of his attention into that project as possible. It’s easier since we managed to find a way to make him, you know, not dead.” 

“Wait, what? How did I miss that?” Tim asked, sitting up straight. 

Dick shrugged. “It was his idea. He and Alfred were talking about it and came up with this whole scheme and Lucius signed off on it. So, volia, Jason Todd Wayne is once more. I think they used amnesia as an excuse, actually, but stranger things have definitely happened.” 

Tim looked stunned. “Hunh.” 

“Missed that headline, I’m guessing,” Dick teased gently. 

“I guess,” Tim said. “When did that happen?” 

“Maybe about eight or ten months ago?” Dick shrugged, jumping up to perch on the edge of the gazebo. “Elliot’s been kept in check by Selina, for the most part, so Bruce will owe her a lot of thanks, if you want to give him a heads up.” 

“You don’t wanna tell him yourself?” Tim asked, curious, his head tilting to the side. 

Dick shrugged again, helpless to explain exactly everything he was feeling right then about it actually being Bruce and what that meant for him and the family. For Damian, for Jason, for him. He didn’t actually mind giving up Batman, he didn’t. 

If he said it often enough maybe he’d even actually start to believe it. 

Somewhere along the way he’d found balance being Batman, being _his_ version of Batman, and he was suddenly off-kilter knowing he wasn’t going to be Batman for much longer. That was on him, no one else. 

“All right then, keep your secrets,” Tim muttered. 

“Seriously, quoting _Lord of the Rings_ at me?” Dick asked with a grin. 

“Absolutely, Gandalf,” Tim said as he stood and stretched with a yawn. “I’m gonna go find my bed. Steph demanded smoothies and gossip in the morning and I don’t know if I’m going to have the energy to deal with her energy.” 

“You won’t,” Dick said with a fond smile. “She’s been bouncing around the Manor waiting for you to get back and picking fights with Cass.” 

“She was pretty mad at me when I left,” Tim admitted. 

“You guys have been through a lot,” Dick nodded and then gave Tim a cheery wink. “Besides, friendship is magic.” 

“I will literally kill you,” Tim said with a pained sigh. 

“Kill Jason first, he binged the whole show with Damian one month,” Dick said, dragging Tim close and ruffling his hair absently before letting him go. “Night, baby bird. Sleep well.” 

“You too, dork,” Tim waved. 

Dick sighed and walked around the gazebo a few times before wandering towards the library. He wasn’t going to be getting any sleep that night and he didn’t want to disturb Slade. Best do his thinking somewhere no one would trip over him. 


	9. The Library

Dick looked up as Alfred entered the library, opening the many layers of curtains and pushing the windows open to get the fresh autumn air into the room and generally ignoring him as he puttered around with his own agenda. He relaxed back into the sofa he had taken over in the early hours of the morning, sinking back into his thoughts, when Alfred pointedly cleared his throat sometime later and pulled him back to reality. 

“Master Slade wondered where you were at breakfast,” Alfred said mildly. “As did the rest of the family.” 

“I didn’t realize it was that late,” Dick said quietly, lying viciously through his teeth. Alfred kept all the clocks in the Manor running in prime condition and Dick could see one from where he was curled up. 

“They were all quite worried,” Alfred chided. “Master Slade--” 

“You know how much he hates when you call him that,” Dick said absently as he shifted in his seat. “It makes him uncomfortable.” 

“You both should have thought of that before engaging in your affair, mayhaps,” Alfred said with a tiny smile as he sat next to Dick. “Now then, since you’ve worried everyone significantly enough, why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind, and maybe we can solve this matter once and for all, hm?” 

“What would we do without you?” Dick asked fondly, sitting up. Alfred merely smiled at him and gestured for Dick to get on with it. “It’s a given that Bruce will take the Cowl back, and I don’t begrudge him that, I really don’t. I’ve patched things up with Tim, and I think Bruce understands that Damian has to stay on as Robin, so that’s that. But where does that leave me? Jason’s probably having the same crisis, or maybe he’s not, he seemed to be relatively okay with the whole thing, but you know how he gets sometimes. Me? I’ve been sitting here all night trying to figure out how it would feel going back to being Nightwing, a Nightwing in Gotham City after being Batman, and I don’t. I honestly can’t imagine it. Sure, a night here or there to remind people is one thing, but for good?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I had balance, Alfred. I’m losing that balance.” 

“Did you?” Alfred asked with a pointed eyebrow. “I seem to remember a young man who had trouble sleeping when his significant other was missing and who couldn’t seem to put his own mark on rooms that have been his for many years now.” 

Dick flushed slightly. “I like to think I had balance,” he said. “It felt like I did, that I eventually stumbled my way into a sort of balance between myself and the Cowl.” 

“And I dare say that you did find a way to make it your own, the same way Master Jason found a way to come to terms with it and make it his own. Neither of you are Master Bruce and neither of you approach the night life quite the same way.” 

“That’s for sure,” Dick said with a wry smile. The fact he and Jason were so different was part of what kept the streets interesting, and Gordon on his toes, because no one ever knew what the night had in store for them. It kept things _fresh_. Even more so because Damian reacted differently as Robin to both of them. “So I wasn’t as balanced as I thought, is that what you’re saying?” 

“Are you perhaps mistaking balance for comfort?” Alfred asked. 

Dick hesitated as he thought Alfred’s words over. Was he merely comfortable as Batman now? Had he forgotten how to be comfortable as Nightwing? Was there such a thing? He knew that he was comfort-- _acclimated_ to fighting as Batman now, the weight of the Cowl didn’t bother him as much as it once did. It would never occur to him now to tease Slade before begging him in a panic to help him get the uniform off before it choked him. Now, though, he couldn’t remember the last time he teased Slade while wearing the Cowl. How interesting. 

“Maybe,” Dick said slowly. 

“What are you afraid of if you go back to being Nightwing?” Alfred asked, making a show of settling in. Dick’s lips quirked into a smile at the expectation that this would take a while. 

“Gotham,” Dick said with a small shrug, as if it said it all. In a way, it did. “Gotham gets hungrier every night, Alf, hungrier and meaner and sometimes it feels like we’re barely keeping up with her. That’s with all of us, me and Jason, Babs and Steph and Cass, the whole family fighting back the hoards. We try to appease her and keep everyone we can safe but at what cost? We barely make it home some nights. If I can’t keep up as Batman, how am I going to keep up as Nightwing?” 

Alfred reached out and took Dick’s hand, squeezing his fingers tightly. It was reassuring, grounding. Needed. “You have never been afraid of the dark, my dear boy,” Alfred said, “even when you should have been. Gotham is dark, and full of terrible things, but it is also full of beauty. The mask you wear, the colors, the suit, they don’t matter. What matters in the man behind them. Will you be able to keep up as Nightwing? Master Richard, you already are. You are keeping up with this city every night just as you are.” 

Dick rubbed at his suddenly itchy nose and smiled at Alfred. “You really think so?” 

“Most assuredly,” Alfred said with a last squeeze of Dick’s hand and a pat on his knee. “You can, and often do, accomplish anything you put your mind to.” He stood and arched an eyebrow at Dick. “I think all that remains is for you to take a leap, whichever leap that may be. Now then, I kept your breakfast warm and expect that you will take a shower and change before you come down for it. You have an hour. Chop, chop.” 

Dick stood as ordered and leaned over to drop a quick kiss against Alfred’s cheek. “Thanks, Alfie.” He slipped out of the library and back to his room to do as ordered. 


	10. Date Night

New York was bright and alive and Dick wanted to dance along the rooftops from the energy he could just _feel_ in the air. There was something different about New York, something energetic, that Gotham in all her corrupted grace lacked. Maybe it was that Dick hadn’t been here in so long, or maybe it was the sheer wealth or memories, or maybe it was that he was here that night as a civilian, but he could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins in an entirely distractible way. Instead, he stuck close to Slade’s side and grinned as the older man shoved his way through the bustling sidewalks to wherever they were headed. 

“Everyone’s still training together, right?” Slade asked. Dick hummed an agreement, threading his fingers through Slade’s hand. “How’s that going?” 

Slade had been out of Gotham for the past few weeks, first to actually make his first overture visit to Rose and then to deal with a contract he’d picked up on the other side of the country. Dick had missed him, he always missed him, but it had been a good chance to focus on family matters with no distractions. He had spent a lot of time with Tim, working with him the way he should have the first time. Jason had taken over the main duties as Batman while Dick tried to get used to being Nightwing again. Jason hadn’t minded, said it was his own way to say goodbye to the Cowl before he set it aside for good when Bruce was ready to step back into the pointy ears. 

Being Nightwing wasn’t as bad as he feared but it wasn’t as much of a breeze as he wished it was either. There were plenty of bumps and bruises and half-starts and stalls. Soon, though, it would be as easy as breathing. He was looking forward to the day when Nightwing once more felt more comfortable than his own skin. 

“It’s good,” Dick said. “Damian and Bruce are doing well together. Bruce is actually giving him positive feedback and Damian has stopped looking to Jason or me to step in and explain what Bruce is actually trying to say. They’re getting better. Tim’s doing good too, he’s decided to stick to the code name he used while traveling around looking for Bruce. We all helped him redesign the costume, though, so no more cowl.” 

Slade chuckled, “Just a mask?” 

“Just a mask,” Dick confirmed. 

Slade nodded and halted in front of a small restaurant with subtle Japanese kanji. Dick grinned, pleased with the choice, and ducked inside ahead of Slade. He loved sushi. 

Dinner was a quiet affair, the two of them at a private table, focused more on food than really talking. They both knew better, especially in such a small restaurant, to discuss anything of importance. One never knew who could be listening. 

An idea came to Dick while they were eating and he dug out his phone as he sipped on his sake. Slade arched an eyebrow as Dick leaned into him, pointing out nearby tattoo parlors with a slow smile. 

“Now?” Slade asked. 

“Unless you have other plans?” Dick asked, stomach tight with anticipation. 

“Nothing that can’t be adjusted,” Slade admitted. “We haven’t even discussed what we wanted.” 

Dick hummed in acknowledgement. This was true, they hadn’t, only agreed that this was something they wanted. They could do it today and, once back in Gotham, file the official paperwork with the state. Maybe they’d take some time off, just the two of them, away from Gotham and the family and spend the time together. Almost like a honeymoon, in a way. A very unconventional honeymoon for what basically amounted to an elopement. 

Alfred would kill him. They would _all_ kill him. 

He kind of loved the idea. 

Dick nabbed one of the unused sushi menus and a pencil and started sketching an idea out on the back. Slade leaned over, his chin resting on Dick’s shoulder, muscled arm around his waist as he watched. “Something like that?” Dick asked. 

“Not bad,” Slade said, taking the pencil and adding in a few other details. “Opposing colors.” 

“Two different types?” Dick suggested. “Slice them in half? One side be a normal one compass, the other be a compass rose?” 

“You’ve spent too much time in shipping towns,” Slade said with a soft chuckle. “I’m not opposed.” 

Dick turned his head to kiss Slade’s cheek. “You know the other name for a compass rose, right? The rose of the wind. And, well, compasses fit us, don’t they? We keep each other in check. We have for years. Sometimes we fail, sometimes we don’t, but lately we’ve never failed to lead each other home.” 

“How much have you had to drink?” 

“Don’t make me punch you, Wilson,” Dick smiled, dropping another quick kiss against Slade’s cheek, pleased with himself and the situation. His stomach still had that fluttery feeling of expectation and _thrill_ , the same one he got right before he let himself freefall from a skyscraper, testing the will of gravity before shooting his grappling gun and letting it catch him before the pavement did. 

“All right, you find someone with the skills to do this,” Slade said, “and I’ll pay for dinner.” 

Dick waved at him, nose already back in his phone as he browsed portfolios and glanced at who was currently best at black work and watercolor. He wondered if he could find someone in the magic community on such short notice who’d be able to squeeze them in. He knew enough of them, and enough of them owed him favors and thought favorably of him, that it really shouldn’t be an issue, but the timing might be the problem. He was impatient and eager to do this tonight. He scrolled through his contacts and sent out a few texts. 

He smiled as he got a response. They had a tattoo artist for the night and he wasn’t even that far away. He had always liked John Constantine. 


	11. The First Night

Dick was the last one back to the Cave that night, having taken one last pass around the city. It was his way of tucking it in for the night, he supposed, something he had started doing when he was Batman and a tradition he didn’t think he’d be able to shake even after giving up the Cowl. He knew Bruce did his own last, quiet sweep through the sleepy streets but there was something almost relaxing about doing a last swing through the peaceful, early hours himself as he watched papers being delivered and bakeries start to bake their goods. Something to remind himself, he supposed, that even though the nights were full of awful things and horrible people that Gotham was still full of good things and good people, was still worth saving.

Gotham almost smelt good with the scent of fresh baked bread and melting chocolate this early in the morning.

Dick pulled his bike up next to where Jason waited and killed the engine before pulling his helmet off. “Hey,” he said

“Hey,” Jason greeted, the Red Hood helmet perched on his hip as he watched Damian and Bruce talk. “You missed a bit of a fight.”

“Uh?”

“Damian thought Bruce was going easy on him tonight,” Jason clarified. “To be fair, I thought he was too.”

“What was the verdict?” Dick asked as he swung himself off the bike and put his helmet away, carefully not looking at Bruce or Damian. Tim was at the Bat computer, pulling up files and munching his way through a pile of sandwiches Alfred had left out for all of them. Damian was huffing and was stalking up the stairs to the Manor, probably to find some hot cocoa and his own post-patrol snack that did not include a sandwich.

“Bruce was more concerned about himself than he was about Damian, supposedly,” Jason murmured quietly, well aware of how well sound traveled in the Cave. “Damian, he said, had been doing this every night where he had only recently started doing it again. I still call bullshit.”

Dick arched an eyebrow at Jason. That sounded like a line. Jason shrugged and rolled his eyes; clearly he agreed. He sighed and headed toward the showers, stretching his arms above his head and twisting as he went to stretch out his back and arms. After the trip to New York he’d taken a few weeks off--to let the tattoo heal and letting Slade take him on the vacation he’d teasingly threatened, he’d even found a beach with black sand and an ocean as blue as Dick’s eyes on short notice for them to spend two weeks at--which the family hadn’t begrudged him, but they had teased him mercilessly, Jason more than the others. A few weeks weren’t enough to put him out of shape but he was pleasantly sore from a relatively active night full of regular crime-fighting for his first night back. He’d hit the gym after this for a nice cool-down on the rings or bars, something easy to help him unwind.

“You good, Goldie?” Jason asked, arching an eyebrow as his lips curled in amusement.

“You did look a little stiff out there,” Tim chimed in from the computer, not bothering to turn around as his fingers flew over the keys. “Too much time off? Getting old on us?”

“I’m fine,” Dick said with a roll of his eyes. His brothers were so mouthy.

“Did you pull a muscle?” Bruce asked, eyes sharp. Of course he noticed something was wrong, he never missed anything, even after being away for as long as he had. “You were favoring your left side slightly.”

Dick ignored them all and headed to the shower, tugging his armored top off. He was fine. He maybe rushed coming back out when he should have eased back into everything but he could have hardly missed Bruce’s first night back in the Cowl. The whole family had been out tonight! He was sure the girls were upstairs right now with Alfred, probably stealing the first batch of cookies--as was their due--before they, and the rest of the cookies, came down to the Cave.

“Hold up,” Jason said, striding over to him and grabbing his shoulder. Dick froze. Jason pushed him away slightly, hand still tight on his shoulder as he peered down the length of Dick’s body. “Is that a tattoo? Since when do you have a tattoo?”

“No?” Dick said slowly, drawing out the syllable as Jason yanked at the waistband of his pants, baring the entirety of the new ink. Dick winced slightly; the tattoo had mostly healed but his suit had stuck to the tattoo a bit tonight and that had hurt.

“Liar, that is a tattoo!” Jason accused, glancing up at Dick with wide eyes. “Holy shit, did you two actually? No way.”

“Okay, so what, it’s a tattoo,” Dick said, shoving Jason away with a glare. “Congrats, you have eyes and a brain. I’m grabbing a shower.” He beat a hasty and strategic retreat to the showers just in time to hear Jason shout:

“Holy shit, is that a marriage tattoo? GOLDIE!”


End file.
